Frozen Spirit
by Fenris30
Summary: A prequel to Winter's Embrace. Sergei and his men need to examine some compounds for information, but there may be a traitor-or traitors-in their midst. Who Sergei ends up meeting ends up affecting him later in ways he would have never guessed. Graphic violence warning.


So letting folks know first-I'm mostly at Archive of our Own these days, under the same name. That's where all of my Tekken stuff goes these days, and I do have some more up. ;)

This story is just a one-chapter one shot that is the prequel to Winter's Embrace, which goes over the events that led up to where the military ended up at the compound where Lili was captured. This story deals more with Sergei, and is more of a straight-up action piece since he and Lili only meet later. (That's not a spoiler since, well, it's the direct prequel to Winter's Embrace. XD) It's got some graphic violence in it so be aware if you're squeamish.

Anyhow hope you like it!

* * *

The men all stood at attention as their two superiors walked in.

One was their general; an older, graying man, though surprisingly amicable. He was business, to be sure, but he simply gave orders and left his men to do their duty. The other man with him was their squad leader...and the very opposite of amicable.

His name was Sergei Dragunov, and he was known as the 'White Angel of Death' for his personal kill count, rather frightening demeanor and for his brutality on the battlefield. Despite being only in his late twenties, the man had killed many more than even the older veterans. He wore his dress outfit; slacks, shirt, tie, huge jackboots, and long, fur-collared coat; he topped it off with a peaked officer's cap. His coal-black hair was kept longer than usual; tied back in a neat tail. He stood a head taller than most of the men there, and was rather heavily built; though he could move quite a bit faster than one would think. His face and body also held numerous scars-all gotten in various fights, though a few he had gotten from one of his men in this very army about a decade before. That man no longer drew breath. Many men no longer drew breath once they crossed Sergei. No one even _knew_ his kill count, as they were almost afraid to ask. Sergei himself had never kept track, as they were just enemies to him. Obstacles to be removed.

One of the more terrifying things about the large man was his eyes. They seemed to show just two emotions; otherwise they were utterly blank and neutral...they never betrayed his thoughts. One emotion they would show was cold rage, and this was one you did _not_ want to see. Not that it mattered, of course; if you saw it, you were probably dead if it was directed toward you.

Sergei was easily one of the best soldiers the Russian military had ever seen. While he was trained in all manner of weaponry-knives, guns, explosives, and more-he was most at home simply killing with his bare hands, and he could do it in a heartbeat. He would often have his sidearm-a GSh-18-on his person, though he would leave his AK back in his armored jeep unless it was absolutely necessary. He kept a long combat knife on his belt while in field gear, but that was usually it. Explosives, like grenades, would be taken if needed as well. He would come fully prepared for the task at hand, but if there was one of the only times he seemed to get a rather disturbingly...happy expression in his eyes-or at least something vaguely resembling happiness-it was when he was fighting enemies up close and personal.

This was the second emotion that he would show. Otherwise...nothing. He also disliked speaking. He would only speak if absolutely necessary, and then, only in as few words as it took.

His silence, demeanor, and the fact that he would let nothing get in the way of an order made him an excellent leader...though one who could at times be a bit controversial, and downright frightening other times. He had been known to kill anyone in the way of an objective, up to and including his own men. Recently there had been an incident where one of the men had carelessly wandered into a warehouse and began shooting when they had specific instructions to not harm anyone there; his excuse was that he saw one of the guards draw a gun. Four men died-the guard and three innocent workers.

The mission was in shambles after that; the man now essentially having murdered three non-combatants unnecessarily. He was simply knocked to the ground by Sergei, who then proceeded to crush his neck under his boot. The man barely had time to yelp before he died. Sergei did not change expression the entire time, even after the man choked blood all over. He wiped it off as if he had stepped in a puddle and then started to figure out how to salvage what was left of the mission.

The rest of the missions since then had gone swimmingly well, for some reason. For what it was worth, he _did_ manage to salvage a mission that otherwise would have been deemed completely ruined; in addition to being incredibly formidable physically, he was quite intelligent as well as patient. So despite some of the issues that could arise with him-and he never harmed a soldier who was doing their duty properly-his staggering success rate coupled with his abilities to plan out missions and keep his men in line made him a favorite squad leader among higher-ups.

He sort of intimidated some of _them_ as well, though this was never talked about. He also wasn't perfect for every type of mission. Like any sort of job, one must use the right tools for said job. Missions requiring utmost subtlety were not as much Sergei's forte. Despite being nearly silent and very patient, subtlety was not his strong point. He tended to leave quite a mess after a lethal fight. His ferocious physical strength, coupled with his skill and brutality, tended to leave bodies in various states of ruin. There was no hiding who had been there since his work was not unknown. It's not even like he went out of his way to cause immense carnage, but it just sort of followed him. They boggled how he only managed to kill one person in the King of Iron Fist Tournament; a very out of his league low-ranked member of the Zaibatsu guard who happened to enter. It was written off as an 'accident'.

They didn't realize that Sergei was not the complete monster some made him out to be; he held back in the tournament and did not fight to kill. Sergei was completely ruthless, but he was not an evil man. The guard's death truly was an accident.

Sergei did not much _care_ what others thought about him, though.

He paced back and forth at the base now, hands clasped behind his back as he looked over his unit. Two men at the end-a couple of years younger than Sergei-were nervous. Their names were Ivan and Mikhail, and they had been a part of Sergei's unit for almost two years now. Never having caused trouble before...they ended up getting into something a _bit_ bigger, recently.

Nervous may have been a understatement. They were _terrified._

Sergei's eyes trailed toward them for a moment-blank as always. He was more than a head taller than either of them-the two of them were average height, as best-though they had shown much skill with varied types of firearms, and were welcome in the unit. They listened to orders, never questioned them, and did a good job.

Even they didn't know why they decided to do what they did...

* * *

It had started a month before. During a mission cleaning out a Zaibatsu compound in eastern Europe, Ivan and Mikhail-who often were teamed up together-had shot two Tekken Force soldiers that had been opening fire on them and cornered a third. The third, however, said he had information. Having instructions from the general to get as much information as possible-and knowing Sergei followed his orders without question and would expect the others to as well-the two stripped him of his weapons and took him into a side room for questioning.

They still didn't completely know how it happened, but somehow they ended up listening to other things this man had to say...and before they knew it, they were being put in contact with one of the members of the Mishima Zaibatsu itself. It didn't take long for them to succumb to the lure of money-and a lot of it.

By the time a week had passed-all while being in extremely secret contact with the Zaibatsu representative through so many funnels that the base thought it normal correspondence-they were essentially moles, spilling the next order of where the military would be. This resulted in two missions-not ones Sergei's unit was assigned to-to go completely bad, resulting in many deaths, including two of the major squad leaders, whom had become considerable thorns in the Zaibatsu's side. There was a third they wanted dead, as well...one Sergei Dragunov.

Mikhail and Ivan knew they were treading on extremely thin ice now. They considered breaking free and told their contacts as much. No amount of money was worth crossing Sergei. But their contacts had promised them it would be easy. They were not convinced, though they decided to sleep on it.

Well, it was now too late. Two days later they were told that Sergei's unit was to go to one compound to seek out the information therein-the compound that the 'situation' was supposed to take place at. They knew now it was too late, and one misstep would likely mean both of them ending up in gods know what shape if Sergei got his hands on them. Dead to be sure. It was more a question of how he would do it.

When it came to people compromising missions, he was known to be even less merciful than usual. Ivan and Mikhail were there when he crushed the man's neck. They remember the sound it made. They _knew_ what happened to people who compromised missions.

They tried not to think too hard what would happen to outright traitors.

* * *

Sergei had arrived at the first compound; there were two to visit today. He traveled on his own in his armored jeep while the rest went in transport vehicles. He took minimal weapons-as usual-and started to head inside. He was wearing his field outfit; gray-white camouflage trousers and armored jacket, heavy black combat boots, Kevlar gloves, and form-fitting Kevlar clothing underneath it all. He would be well-protected from both fights and the elements. He completed his outfit with a gas mask-kept on his belt if he needed it-and two tear gas grenades.

Stepping inside, he nodded to his men who had already secured the front. He knew there were more Tekken Force soldiers inside. One of the men pointed toward the back. Sergei motioned for the others to head to the east and west wings of the compound. He then nodded his head and walked off. He did not expect particularly harsh resistance here; Tekken Force soldiers were the dime-a-dozen type. He headed through the north door, and in fact did not meet any resistance until he reached one of the main computer rooms.

There were three soldiers there with their guns off to the side lazily, not even wearing helmets. It seemed that they had no idea what was going on downstairs...but his men had orders to be fairly quiet. On top of this, the compound was not one of insane secrecy; it was disguised as something else, so military coming and going wasn't even unheard of. There was a small bit of obvious chaos on the first floor, though it seemed the third floor was very much disconnected.

They were certainly not prepared for the surprise attack. Sergei shoulder charged the man closest to him, knocking him back and down; he managed to begin to stand but was greeted with a roundhouse kick to the back of his neck that shattered it. The other two began to wake up-so to speak-but almost too late; Sergei was able to smash his knee into one's stomach and ribs with a muffled _cracking_ sound. He then quickly put his head under his arm and twisted, snapping his neck.

Sergei turned, seeing the third finally moving toward him; he moved a bit too slow however as he tried to step back and the man swung his rifle up, tagging him in the mouth. Luckily he had moved back fast enough and the man's hit was wild enough that it did not cause real damage, but it did cause him to spit out some blood.

Before the man could turn his gun around to fire, he saw the look in Sergei's eyes...which stopped him for a moment. It was all it took for Sergei to strike him to the ground with a swinging fist to the side of his head; he finished him quickly by smashing his heel down onto his temple. Blood oozed from underneath his head, forming a large puddle on the floor.

Sergei spat out more blood, wiping his mouth off and checking himself in the glass; he would be fine. He had taken worse, including gunshots. This was nothing.

He walked into the room, which was empty; there were several computers, though, and they were on. He suspected he could download some information while exploring a few of the old-fashioned file cabinets. He sat down at one of the desks, removing his heavy Kevlar gloves. He suspected he would have to call their computer experts up to take care of the passwords. As he stood, he glanced down at some printed out emails on the counter.

_These men were not doing their jobs very well._

It turned out to be nothing much, though-just odds and ends that were not needed to be kept secret at all...until he reached the bottom one. He read it, and read it again. It was an email.

His eyes got the look that they rarely get...that of cold rage. Whoever left this here...it would be their last mistake, surely...if Sergei did not find him, then surely others he was working with would kill him for his carelessness.

He began to search through more papers. He had a feeling where this was leading.

* * *

Mikhail was nervous. Deathly so.

He did not know where this room was where he was supposed to meet two contacts; it was in an inconspicuous room, guarded by a few men. He and Ivan had split up; Ivan's role would be to get inside one of their archives rooms for some more information, and then to radio the man who was supposed to do the deadly deed to Sergei the whereabouts of the unit.

He thought it would have been nice for his contacts to share more information about the place, but he understood that _some_ things had to keep toward a certain secrecy. He knew Ivan was where he was supposed to be, now he needed to find the computer room with the information in it, which was depressingly vague. He hoped he was not too late. He was sent to go to the east wing, got tied up with a few soldiers, and had to hurry up to make an excuse why he would be needed in one of the other areas. He could sense that proverbial ice he was walking on growing thinner and thinner as the moments went by, and if he fell through...there would be no going back.

His stomach twisted into knots again. It had been doing that the past couple of weeks. He thought he would have to get ulcers treated with some of the ill-gotten resources they ended up with after this was all said and done. More than once he wondered if this was all even worth it, but at this point he suspected that barring a worst-case scenario, it would be too late to go back. He had never been this brave; he had no idea what caused this madness when he thought back, and several times wished he had picked something _else_ to be brave about.

He figured it was too little, too late, as he located the cargo elevator. He figured going up the back way-even if it was longer-would be a better bet.

* * *

Back in the computer lab, Sergei lifted his head at the sound of the door opening. Two men were walking in rather hurriedly, talking to one another with panicked looks on their faces; clearly, they did not like what they saw in the hallway. When they saw Sergei, the color drained from their faces.

They did not expect a man that large to be able to move _that_ fast as he charged them. It was over fairly quickly, as Sergei struck them with a silent fury; smashing their bodies against the walls and the floor. It did not take long for the last man to stop breathing after Sergei drove his fist into his face several times as he lay there on the floor, the other man already dead and slumped against the wall.

He stood up, stepping over the corpses and headed to where he had a feeling he needed to go judging from the information he had gathered. Up one floor and to the end of the hall, he tried the door; locked. He wound back his leg and kicked it; it only took two from the huge man to smash it open.

The person inside jumped; surely no one could have kicked the door open _that_ easily. He then turned, folders in his hand, and his eyes grew wide.

Sergei looked at Ivan, shaking his head.

"Ivan..." he started. At the sound of his voice, he stepped backward into the wall, beginning to slide downward. Sergei walked over, looking down. Ivan knew from the blood spatter all over him Sergei knew exactly what was going on. He knew, however, that not many people got to hear anything at all from Sergei Dragunov before they were killed. He would have wondered if he should consider himself privileged or not if he had not been so terrified.

"You know what happens to traitors."

* * *

Mikhail ran back; after he had found the dead men he knew their cover was blown. He had to get to Ivan before it was too late. They had flown too close to the proverbial sun, he knew that now. He realized what they should have done was change units. Another unit captain would have likely been a bit less perceptive than Sergei; not to mention considerably more merciful. They surely would have gotten in trouble-pretty bad trouble-likely leading to dishonorable discharge and probably imprisonment, but nowhere_ near_ as bad a trouble as they would be in if Sergei caught them. He figured he could find Ivan and clear out in the current bit of mild chaos; they would have to go on the raid of the Zaibatsu compound, and soon, leaving them paying more attention to getting ready.

When he threw open the door, his stomach sank practically to his knees as a cold sweat popped out on his forehead. A sudden sense of horrible, foreboding doom overtook him as his legs started to shake.

Sergei was there, Ivan slumped on the ground in front of him by the wall, dead. Or, well, he knew it was Ivan by his clothing, as any identifying features were lost in a horror of blood and bone. Judging by the enormous bloodstain on the wall that lead to the floor, Sergei had either smashed, kicked, or otherwise just rammed his head into the wall until it broke. He had no idea what the 'White Angel of Death' did to him. He just knew he was unable to move, Ivan was unrecognizable and there was blood fucking _everywhere_ in that corner.

Sergei looked up, walking over to him, his white eyes devoid of about any emotion but death. He didn't say a word as he glared down. There was_ so_ much blood. Mikhail had shot many men in his life, but it had never been this bad.

The silence made it worse. Mikhail did scream for awhile, as it filled the silence that made it easier for him to hear his own bones break.

* * *

Sergei stopped in front of the second compound, holstering his GSh and looking out of the window. The snow picked up again; he suspected it would reach blizzard status before the night was through. His armored jeep served well; it was large and heavy, with excellent grip on the snow, and while it wouldn't plow through the biggest drifts, it would get him around when needed. It also looked less conspicuous than the larger vehicles.

He got out, his field gear keeping him warm. His jacket, gloves, and trousers were still spattered with blood from the men he had to deal with, though his gloves were black which hid the stains, and walking through the snow cleaned it from his boots. He still couldn't believe they would betray the unit-nay, the entire army-like that, but there you go. He was almost glad they were in his unit-others may have been more lenient with them. They would have been punished, but with all of the conflict, he noticed a distinct lack of...wanting to 'waste resources', so to speak, so they likely would have been sent off to somewhere that was exceptionally dangerous.

He disliked this, thinking traitors should be crushed out like the insects that they were.

Lighting a cigarette, he began to walk toward the compound, having gotten word of the things they have found. Files, folders, and in it, probably some fairly interesting stuff on the Zaibatsu, or at least things the Zaibatsu would have been interested in. Any sort of nonsense that may have happened tonight was no longer an issue after Sergei had removed the offending parties. They'd find the remains, he was sure. Not that he minded. Let it be a lesson.

He arrived in, throwing his cigarette into a snow drift where it made a soft _hissing_ sound. The compound was very well lit outside by many floodlights. Taking one more look at the sky-you could not see any moon nor stars the clouds were so thick from the oncoming blizzard at this point-he went inside, wondering what he would find.

One of his men was there with a key, which he handed to him. "This is to the archives," he said. He stepped back, waving two other men forward. "And we found something else."

Puzzled, Sergei walked forward as the soldiers ushered in what looked to be a teenage girl. She was fair-skinned, with very long, blonde hair and blue eyes. She was dressed fairly warmly given the weather, though judging by the lack of snow on her clothing she had been indoors for awhile. As she got closer, Sergei realized he recognized her.

_Lili Rochefort, her name was, if I remember correctly._ He had seen her fight. Fairly skilled for being self-taught, though still unrefined. Showed potential, though. She was defeated by the other girl-who was a cousin of Jin Kazama named Asuka-during his time in the tournament. Seemed to have more bravery than sense judging by her being in a Zaibatsu compound in western Russia._ She must have been desperate for something. _

She had a fairly brave face on as well, though he could see a lot of nervousness in her eyes behind it. She also was gritting her teeth, seemingly in pain. He noticed one of the men was holding her arm rather roughly. He glanced at the man, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at his hand; he could tell this girl was not seeking to truly hurt anyone. He let her go quickly, standing straight. _She's a teenager. She was probably able to knock a couple of guards out to get in here, but she's not going to try anything on trained military personnel, I can tell._ He stifled a chuckle when she gave the soldier an annoyed glare after shaking out her arm. _Seems braver than some men I've had in my own unit._

He held out his hand, the other man handing him the folders they had gotten from her. He flipped through them, seeing information on Rochefort Enterprises...her father's corporation. He knew the Zaibatsu had great interest in this as well. He glanced at Lili for a moment, his expression neutral. He motioned to his jeep, telling the men to bring her to it.

They nodded. One turned to her. "You will need to be questioned. We will let you go afterward."

Sergei heard Lili exhale, as if in relief. She simply nodded. "I will tell you everything I know. Just let me go. Let me tell my father what happened."

He said nothing; he simply nodded toward her once, and stepped aside so they could depart. Lili spared Sergei a glance back, her expression now almost puzzled, as if she couldn't believe that was it.

He turned when they reached the door to take a look at what happened. He had a feeling it was going to be a very long night.

There were no more traitors in their unit, at least.

That he knew of.

* * *

A/N: Anyhow, I guess you all know where this story heads. ;)

I just wanted to post this here. I probably won't be using as much anymore, but I might occasionally post something, but I find Archive a bit more to my liking these days. I hope you check my stuff out there though as I've been back to writing a lot of Sergei/Lili stuff these days.


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